geekystudmuffin | Helping Morgan; Hotch/Morgan; NC-17

Title: Helping Morgan
Authors:

severity_softly
Pairing: Hotch/Morgan
Rating: NC-17/FRAO
WC: ~10,500
Summary: Injured in the line of duty, Morgan allows Hotch to take care of him...and then offers to 'take care' of Hotch in return.
Notes: Self-betaed. Set generically during season three. This is the first part of a four-part series (eventual Hotch/Morgan/Reid--all four parts to be posted this week). Written in RP format.

This is all your fault, Morgan thought, staring at the victim's body sprawled out on the pavement. If you'd caught the guy. If you'd just ignored the pain. You coulda had him.

Of course at the time they hadn't known for sure that it was their unsub. They'd just known someone was fleeing the scene of the last body dump. He could have been a scared witness. Morgan had chased him, but the man had knocked a trash barrel over in his flight and Morgan had tripped over it. He'd hit the ground hard and hadn't been able to catch up.

Morgan crouched, looking at the red ribbons tied around each wrist. They still hadn't figured out the significance of the ribbons. Her dark brown hair pooled around her head. Her eyes were staring blankly up at the sky. He had to resist the urge to stroke her cheek, close her eyes...apologize.

Hotch walked over from where he'd been speaking with the local police, stepping up behind Morgan and eying him for a moment before he looked at the body. He knew what to expect in both cases--there had been four other women found just like this in the past month, and Morgan... well, Hotch had seen that expression on his face before. He was pretty sure he knew what it meant too, even if Morgan would never admit it. "He was too far ahead. None of us could have caught him."

Morgan shook his head, not looking up. Hotch was just trying to make him feel better, and he didn't deserve it. "We coulda saved her. She shouldn't have died like this." He clenched his jaw and looked at the way her hair spread across the asphalt. He would have the nightmares tonight, no question.

"We didn't know it was him." Hotch looked from the girl to Morgan and back. He hadn't missed the way Morgan had limped (just slightly) over to her, even though he was trying and generally succeeding in making it look like he wasn't hurt at all. "Get your knee checked out," he said, glancing at the ambulance on the scene.

"I'm fine," Morgan said dismissively, even though his knee was throbbing. It was his bad knee, of course. The one he'd told the FBI recruiters was completely recovered from the football injury. The one that ached sometimes before it rained or snowed. He had a feeling Hotch knew he'd lied to get accepted to the Bureau, but it had never come up. He hoped this wouldn't become a reason to pawn him off on a desk job. "Look at the ribbons. Double-knotted."

Hotch raised an eyebrow, but otherwise his expression didn't change and he didn't look back at Morgan. "I didn't say you weren't fine. I said I wanted you to get your leg looked at." Morgan had hit the ground hard when he'd fallen, and Hotch knew he'd hit the leg he tended not to favor when he had the chance to make a conscious choice in the matter. If Morgan told the EMTs he was fine, that was up to Morgan, but Hotch was going to make sure he at least followed protocol in getting it checked, and he hoped Morgan would at least let them help him enough that the injury would stand less of a chance of becoming aggravated. Though, he knew how much Morgan loved his job. He doubted Morgan would jeopardize that out of simple pride.

"Before we leave," Hotch finally conceded. They could stand here and talk about the case without causing any more damage. "They're ripped at the edges, too," he said, going back to the ribbons. "Looks like he spent less time. Panicked." He glanced away in the direction the unsub had run, where he'd sent the local PD off to do a grid search of the area.

"Why the ribbons?" Morgan said, frowning. "There are no ligature marks. He doesn't use the ribbons to strangle them.  There's no indication they're there to keep the women subdued. It's like they're decorations. Added post-mortem." He shook his head. "There has to be some significance."

He thought about standing, but just now he didn't want to try, for fear he would give himself away. Hotch had the keenest sight of anyone he knew, when it came to understanding people's secrets. It seemed like Hotch had always been able to see his secrets.

Hotch shook his head. "He doesn't do them any outward damage, either," Hotch said. The girls had all been given lethal doses of tranquilizers to kill them. "He lays them out like they're on display." He crouched down next to Morgan. "Red lipstick." It was outside her natural lip line. "He puts that on too." Hotch glanced up and called over to where Reid was checking out the rest of the scene. "Reid, any specific symbolism in the color red?"

Reid turned, then rocked on his feet. "Just about anything you can think of. Depending on the culture, red can symbolize anything from love to wrath, sin to sacrifice, lust, blood, virility... Studies have shown it's the color that produces the strongest reaction in most people, be that positive or negative." He paused, then went on. "Red ribbons are also synonymous with the AIDS Awareness Campaign."

Hotch frowned. "Thanks," he muttered, and looked back at the body. Great. Well, that hadn't helped.

Reid's lips thinned, but he went back to what he was doing without comment.

"Has anything shown up besides the tranquilizers in the tox screens?" Morgan asked. "Medications would show, right? Have the victims been tested for HIV or AIDS? Maybe Reid's on to something there." It didn't feel right. There couldn't be four women who looked so similar, all of whom had AIDS, even in a city this size.  He shook his head. "What are the odds?" He rubbed a hand over his face. If he'd stopped the guy...If they'd got here sooner...

If, if, if. Too many ifs could drive you crazy. He sighed and pushed himself to his feet, clenching his jaw against a wince. "That wouldn't explain the lipstick," he said, dismissing his own argument.

Hotch shook his head, forcing himself not to turn and watch as Morgan stood. It wouldn't do any good to continue to push the fact that he knew Morgan was hurt, and Morgan would probably appreciate the reprieve. "This doesn't fit the MO of a mercy killer, either." He tilted his head. "It's almost like he thinks he's an artist - the colors, the poses..." Hotch stood too.

Morgan frowned. Artist... "Were all the victims wearing their own clothes? Didn't one of the others have on a dress like this?" He turned to go back to the SUV, where the pictures of the other crime scenes were, and then hissed as his knee gave a nasty twinge. He tried to disguise the reaction, hoping Hotch would ignore it. This was going to take about a cubic ton of ibuprofen and ice to deal with. And maybe a couple of glasses of scotch, once they were back at the hotel.

Hotch was about to say he thought Morgan was right, but then that badly veiled hiss of pain sent a frisson of empathetic hurt mixed with annoyance through Hotch. His frown deepened. "It's getting late. Reid," he called, "you get with Prentiss tomorrow and see if we can't track down where these dresses are coming from. I'll get with Dave on the profile." He waited for Reid to walk away, then fixed Morgan with a look. After a moment, he inclined his head to get them walking, briefly putting his hand on Morgan's back to guide him towards the ambulance without having to say it again.

Morgan sucked in a silent breath at feeling the warmth of Hotch's hand through his t-shirt, but then he scowled at his boss. "'And Morgan, you go and be useless with the EMTs', is that it?" he griped, though he allowed Hotch to steer him over to the ambulance, and he relaxed enough to favor the bad knee just a little.

"Basically, yes. For now," Hotch said, nodding. He didn't say that Morgan wasn't going out tomorrow unless they cleared him for work. Morgan surely knew that, but Hotch wasn't going to give him extra incentive to lie to the EMTs.

Morgan snorted and folded his arms, but let the EMT prod his knee without protest until she demanded he take his pants off. Then he scowled at Hotch. "I don't do that on a first date," he lied, glancing at her and relaxing his expression into a flirty smile. Impervious to his charms, she insisted, and twenty minutes later he'd been ordered to keep his weight off the leg for the rest of the night, despite the way he'd refused to go to the hospital. He kept insisting it would be fine if he iced it, and avoided meeting Hotch's gaze.

Hotch looked the other way too, ignoring the slight envy he always felt at that look Morgan could so easily throw in the direction of a pretty girl. He convinced himself, poorly and for what had to be the hundredth time, that he wasn't envious of the girl rather than Morgan's easy nature. "You know, they don't really get paid for you to flirt with them."

Morgan grinned, pushing away his annoyance with Hotch for making him admit he was hurting. "Nah, that's just a bonus, lucky girls." He tossed a grin at his boss, wondering if that was annoyance or just jealousy that Morgan had a way with the ladies.

Hotch snorted, but then one of the EMTs was trying to hand Morgan crutches and Morgan started to try and refuse them. Hotch frowned. "Take them," he said. "I need you able tomorrow."

Morgan scowled. "I'll be fine, Mom. I'll put ice on it at the hotel if that'll make you happy." He sort of liked the way Hotch was fussing at him, but he wouldn't have admitted it to save his life.

"It will. Take the crutches anyway." Hotch considered threatening to carry Morgan if he didn't take them, but second guessed himself, not thinking either of them would find it particularly funny.

Morgan rolled his eyes but took the crutches, feeling more annoyed when one of the EMTs gave Hotch a grateful look. "I suppose you're gonna leave me back at the police station tomorrow," he grumbled, fiddling with his cell phone and gun so they wouldn't knock against the crutches.

"Depends on how rest and ice help it," Hotch said honestly.

Sighing, Morgan shook his head and looked back at the EMTs. "Am I cleared to go, ladies?" he asked, dredging up another smile. Actually the longer he stood here the more his knee throbbed, so he was looking forward to that ice.

"Only if Agent Hotchner promises to keep an eye on you," one of the EMTs said, grinning at Hotch.

Hotch rolled his eyes, but finally smiled at her. "If only I'd gotten my degree in nursing."

"Don't worry, your degree in parenting is enough," Morgan muttered. She laughed and nodded at Hotch that they could go.

"I think that's considered extra-curricular in our line of work," Hotch said as they walked away, and he'd meant it to come off as a joke, but the words felt bitter on his tongue. "Can you drive?" he asked before Morgan could say anything. "Let me re-phrase, should you drive?"

Morgan glanced at him, thinking he should drop the parent jokes. He should have known better; Jack was a sore subject with Hotch since Haley filed for divorce. He shrugged. "You can drive," he said, with the air of someone making a huge concession.

Hotch chuckled, grateful Morgan dropped what would have quickly become a touchy subject. "Oh, thanks." He pulled open the driver's side door and let Morgan fumble with the crutches to get in on the passenger side, though mostly that just entailed Morgan tossing the crutches in the back seat with a mumbled curse.

Thanks to Hotch's fussing and the EMTs, Morgan and Hotch were the last members of the team to get back to the hotel. Morgan didn't mind; it meant everyone had settled in already and no one was around to see him hobbling in on crutches. Once Hotch shut off the engine, Morgan got out and fumbled with his files, trying to juggle them, his bag, and the crutches.  When he lost his balance, he dropped the bag to try to keep ahold of the files. Triumphant about keeping the files, he dropped one of the crutches, then had to bite back a yelp as his knee wrenched again and he lurched head-on into Hotch, who had finally come around the SUV to see what was taking him so long.

Hotch wasn't expecting that, and it knocked the wind out of him for a moment, but he wound up with his arms around Morgan anyway, his grip instinctively tight. He didn't mind holding Morgan like this, though he knew he should mind a lot more. "Nnn," he hummed, wishing Morgan would eventually learn to ask for help. He straightened them both without letting go. "I'd ask if you were all right, but I don't think I need to. Here, give me those."

"Sorry," Morgan muttered, but he leaned on Hotch just a little, knowing he shouldn't. God, Hotch was strong; Morgan always thought of him, generally, as the strong-and-silent-type, but he never really gave a lot of thought to the 'strong' portion of that. He sighed and handed over the files.

Hotch took the files and then picked up Morgan's bag, slinging it over his shoulder before Morgan could protest. He'd do this for any member of the team, especially on a case where they needed everyone out on the streets, but there was a special sort of thrill helping Morgan. Morgan didn't let most people help him. He could hear the creaking of crutches behind him as they headed into the lobby, but at least Morgan wasn't complaining.

Morgan scowled at Hotch's back all the way into the hotel, but he bit back his complaints until they were checked in and waiting for the elevator. "This is going to be the most boring case I've ever had," he muttered. He knew he ought to be grateful Hotch wasn't sending him home, but he couldn't bring himself to admit it.

Hotch turned and looked at him. Exciting wasn't usually good when it came to their jobs, but Hotch knew what Morgan meant. Of course, it was easier to diffuse Morgan's frustration by not playing into it. "Boring isn't a bad thing," he said.

"You may have noticed I don't exactly like sitting still," Morgan retorted. If he hadn't been in such a bad mood, he would have laughed at himself. Don't like sitting still? You're like a damn two-year-old on a caffeine and sugar high, he thought. Sitting still was like being alone--it gave you too much time to realize your own weaknesses. He was relieved when the elevator door dinged and he could crutch his way in and punch the number.

"None of us do," Hotch said, following Morgan in and leaning against the elevator wall, trying not to smile too much. Really, taking it out on the number seven would do nothing to help Morgan's temper, but Hotch was willing to let him try it without comment. "Besides, sitting still on a case might give you a change to get to know that tech girl up in the bunker a little better. You know, I think you might like her, if you gave her a chance."

Morgan almost cracked a smile, but he pulled his expression under control. Still, he had to appreciate that Hotch was trying to cheer him up. Hotch wasn't usually much of a cheer-you-up kind of guy. "Who, Gomez? Ah, she's over me. Got some geeky studmuffin who puts Reid to shame with his fashion sense." He darted a glance at Hotch in the mirror of the elevator wall, then looked away.

Hotch chuckled, just missing Morgan's gaze in the mirror when he looked up a second too late. "I think there are varying degrees of geek chic, actually."

Morgan snorted and glanced back at Hotch. "I keep telling people you do have a sense of humor," he said, and let himself smile faintly at his boss. Your boss. Remember he's your boss. He shifted and then bit the inside of his mouth at another stab of pain from his knee. Man, he was looking forward to getting off his feet.

Hotch's own smile picked up just slightly when Morgan smiled. "Rumors of my severity are greatly exaggerated." The door dinged open and Hotch reached out to hold them for Morgan. "I'm generally disinclined to correct them, however," he said as Morgan hobbled past. He followed Morgan out, feeling in an oddly good mood, which he could only put down to Morgan's improving one, given the circumstances. "You're 718. You're adjoining me, actually. I'm 720. This way," he said, gesturing down the hall.

Morgan followed, feeling a bit better about things now that he'd made Hotch smile. He shouldn't feel like that was such an accomplishment. "Great, you'll probably be checking on me every hour to make sure I don't have a concussion," he grumbled, but it was just for show.

"No, I'm pretty sure I'll be able to hear 185 pounds of FBI agent hit the floor, if you fall down," Hotch said lightly.

"Good to know you care," Morgan muttered, but he shot an amused look at Hotch. "I'll try not to fall in the bathroom, then."

"Thanks," Hotch said, slipping the key into Morgan's lock when they got to the room, and held the door again. "Leave it unlocked just in case, though. I don't want to have to pay for having to break it in." He stood in the doorway for a moment, and then followed Morgan in, dropping the files to the desk and Morgan's bag near them on the floor.

Morgan shook his head and made his way to the bed, where he lowered himself gratefully to the edge. "You can unlock the adjoining door, but no way in hell am I leaving the other door open. Who knows what kind of crazies are out there." They knew, of course, but he hoped it would make Hotch laugh again.

Hotch chuckled. "Are you afraid Reid might come over and try to explain anti-matter again?"

Morgan laughed. "You know me too well," he said, and leaned over to dig around in his bag. He had a bottle of ibuprofen somewhere. He found himself wishing Hotch would stay, but at a loss for anything to say to keep him here, so he concentrated on finding the bottle and shaking out several pills.

Hotch watched him for a moment, unsure what to say, then he headed for the door between their rooms. "Seriously, if you need anything..."

Morgan cleared his throat, then glanced up. "Um. If you don't mind..." He trailed off and shrugged. "Nah, never mind."

Hotch stopped and looked back, frowning slightly. "No, what?"

Morgan shrugged. He hated asking for help. "Could you, ah, get me some ice?" He gestured at the crutches. "I'd probably just dump it if I tried."

Hotch nodded. "Sure." He headed for the mini-fridge, grabbing the plastic bag from the ice bucket on his way and filling it with ice from the tiny freezer compartment. He tied it as he headed back to where Morgan was sitting. "Anything else?"

Morgan shifted a little, suddenly feeling a little mischievous. "You know, I ought to take advantage of this," he said, eyeing Hotch. "Isn't every day I have my SAC waiting on me hand and foot." He grinned. "You could fix me a drink and rub my feet."

That surprised a laugh out of Hotch, and he shook his head, grinning. "You know..." He considered for a moment. "I'll fix you a drink. I'm drawing the line at foot rubs. Last time I did that, look where it got me," he said. He headed to the mini-bar and made Morgan a drink, then hesitated. "Do you mind company?"

Mind? Hell, no. Morgan shook his head, watching Hotch with a mixture of curiosity and pleasure. At least he didn't have to think of another reason for Hotch to stick around. "Yeah, I'm not exactly a rub-your-feet kinda guy, either. That's why I stick to flirting with EMTs and other people I won't see again." He shifted back a little on the bed, making himself more comfortable since he wasn't going to have to hobble around fending for himself just yet.

Hotch poured a second drink, not really looking up. "One of these days, you'll meet someone you want to see again," he said, and wandered over to the chair by Morgan's bed, collapsing in it. "If you're still working with the BAU, run the other way." He took a sip of his scotch. It felt weird talking like this. He didn't really talk about this with anyone, except for... well, Reid. But it seemed pointless for him to go next door and watch TV alone when Morgan needed help and was actually letting Hotch help him. Besides, if Hotch was honest, he wanted the company too.

Morgan snorted. "It'd be nice to have someone you like and a job you like," he said. Of course, he couldn't exactly say that he'd already met that person, since he had no idea if Hotch had ever even considered being with a man. Morgan had always tried not to look at Hotch that way, since he was his boss and married...but of course that hadn't been successful at all. He swirled his drink and swallowed the ibuprofen with a gulp of scotch, then shuddered slightly.

"Tried it. One poisons the other, either way." Hotch realized suddenly how bad that sounded and cleared his throat, then looked over at Morgan and gave him a sad smile. "I guess that's why I'm in New Jersey sharing a drink with you right now instead of giving someone a foot rub."

Morgan felt a strange pang in his chest and sighed. "I'm not that bad, am I?" he said, but his heart wasn't in the teasing. He hated seeing Hotch unhappy.

Hotch breathed a laugh. "On a scale of one to ten?" he asked, teasing, but not sounding very amused either.

"Hey, I think I'm offended, here." Morgan forced a grin. "I'm at least a ten." He took a sip of his drink, wondering if that had come across as flirty or just arrogant. Don't flirt with your boss, no matter how lonely he seems.

Hotch laughed again, feeling slightly better, though the immediate answer that Morgan was a ten luckily didn't escape. "A nine and a half, maybe. With ten being the most trying and one being the least," he said.

Morgan laughed and covered his chest with a hand. "Man, I'm hurt. You're kicking a man when he's down, here." He shook his head, watching Hotch. "I guess I'm lucky you can put up with me," he murmured, his voice dropping a little, just slightly suggestive. He caught himself and took a hasty sip of his drink.

Hotch glanced up, that tone sending something through him, a funny sort of want. He had to remind himself that he was just lonely. And Morgan was straight. Very straight, and couldn't have meant anything by that tone. Oh yeah, and Hotch was his boss.

Hotch suddenly thought maybe it had been a bad idea to sit here and drink with Morgan. "I made you a drink, didn't I?"

Morgan studied Hotch, wondering if he'd pushed it too far. "Yeah, but you wouldn't rub my feet," he replied, faking a pout. God, he just wanted to grab Hotch by the tie and kiss him. It was probably a good thing his knee hurt enough to keep him from moving.

Hotch gave Morgan a look, and deadpanned, "I'm sorry. I'm just not looking for another long-term relationship at the moment."

Morgan laughed again. "Casual sex?" he suggested, then wondered if he'd really said that. Oh, God, he was going to get himself fired. Or at least shouted at.

Hotch had started to take another drink of his scotch, and then choked when Morgan spoke, sputtering and coughing until he'd cleared the liquid that had gone down the wrong way. And then he wasn't sure if he should laugh or not, and glanced up at Morgan, wishing his eyes weren't watering, to see Morgan wearing an expression he couldn't quite read. It was one between joking and apprehension, and Hotch had to convince himself quickly that the apprehension was over bringing something like that into a conversation with his boss, not because he was suggesting that with his boss.

"I'm afraid I'm quite a bit rustier at all of that than you are," he said, because it was the safest answer he could think of.

Okay, Hotch wasn't shouting at him, so Morgan thought he could rule out getting fired, too. He shook his head. "Hey, you know what they say. Practice makes perfect," he said, shifting enough to push his shoes off and scoot back a little further onto the bed.

Hotch just started at Morgan for a moment. He looked incredibly inviting lying there like that, but Hotch tried not to think of that. He tried to tell himself that, yes, he was Morgan's boss, but they were off duty. And Hotch was soon to be newly-single, so the conversation was not one that most men would avoid. Still, a lump was forming in his throat. He shook his head. "The person I'm with matters for me. I can't--- I never have been able to just pick up anyone."

Morgan tilted his head a little, watching Hotch. There was no way Hotch was unable to get a date, not with his striking features and the brilliant, if rare, smile. So he just didn't like sleeping with strangers. It was oddly endearing, and not really a surprise. "So casual sex with friends," Morgan amended, his lips curling.

Hotch chuckled again, but his heart was starting to tug funnily in his chest. "Have you seen When Harry Met Sally?"

Morgan snorted. "Chick flick," he said dismissively, then darted an obviously furtive glance at the door and back to Hotch. "Of course I've seen it," he said, as if admitting a secret. "I have two sisters." He shrugged. "So you really think friends can't sleep together? Sex always gets in the way?" It occurred to him that the pain in his knee was fading, either the ice or the painkillers or the scotch starting to work.

Hotch looked at Morgan and swallowed. "I don't know, I've never tried it." What the hell am I doing? Leave the room. Now. He shifted and put his glass down on the table next to his chair, but couldn't get up to leave. "If not get in the way, it's got to change things, hasn't it?"

Morgan shrugged again. "Says who?" But he'd noticed Hotch setting his glass down. He was getting uncomfortable with the conversation, and Morgan hadn't meant to push it so close to...well, to what he really wanted. He drained his glass and glanced at it, then back up to Hotch's face. His lips quirked. "Don't suppose you'll fix me another drink, while you're in the waiting-on-me-hand-and-foot mood?" he asked, letting his voice get a little playful--just a little. "You can have another, too."

Hotch looked at his glass, but still didn't move, his brows drawing into a thoughtful frown. Morgan had pushed and then diverted, and Hotch was starting to think that had been more than just a casual conversation. "Morgan," he started, but trailed off.

"Yeah?" Morgan tilted his head, just a little, keeping his gaze on Hotch's face.

Hotch glanced back up, his gaze narrowed quizzically. "Were you just suggesting...?"

Morgan swallowed. He had been trying not to suggest, exactly. Hint, maybe. He licked his lips and didn't smile, but didn't look away. "If I am?" Oh, God, he couldn't breathe.

"I'm your boss," Hotch replied slowly, careful to keep his tone neutral, holding no judgment of the idea.

That wasn't a 'no'. Morgan kept watching him. "I'm not trying to get anything in return. It's just a fuck, no strings attached." I want you. I've wanted you for too long.

For the first time in a very long time, Hotch had no idea how he was supposed to respond. He shook his head, his eyebrows lifting as he tried to come up with something to say, and then finally laughed just to release tension, dropping his head to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Your knee's hurt," he said, hardly believing he was actually considering this.

That was definitely not a 'no'. Morgan laughed. "All right, I guess there's one string attached. That we do it again when I'm feeling better."

Hotch didn't move, but he was still smiling a little. He wasn't sure if he was amused or appalled at himself, but he wanted Morgan, and it felt good to be wanted by him, too. He breathed another laugh. "Of all the things I'm not supposed to do, this probably tops the list." He glanced at the door between their rooms, then back at Morgan. God, he looked good. It was a little freeing to let himself think that for once.

Morgan shook his head. "You didn't do anything but fix me a drink," he offered, grinning. Hotch hadn't said yes, but Morgan was suddenly confident that he would. "I'm the one who made an inappropriate offer. We're both professionals. I respect you too much for it to change the way I look at you." His grin widened. "Except maybe I'll let you see me looking sometimes."

Hotch swallowed and shook his head as well, an eyebrow lifting in amusement now. "How long has this escaped my notice?"

"Too long," Morgan said, lowering his voice and letting a hint of want creep into it. "Too damn long."

Hotch sucked in a breath, Morgan's tone sending a thrill of longing through him. He pushed from his chair to walk over and sit on the edge of the bed, licking his lips. "I wasn't supposed to notice, and not just because of my job," he murmured... and though the divorce wasn't technically final yet, they all knew it would be. He hadn't had sex in over a year, and Haley had been seeing someone else for at least half that time.

Morgan sat up, moving into Hotch's space. He kept his gaze on Hotch's face, liking the way he was responding. "I think it's okay to notice now," he said quietly, leaning close enough that he could feel Hotch's body heat, even though they weren't quite touching.

Hotch turned his head to meet Morgan's gaze, surprised by how close they were, though he didn't back away. "I think it has been for a long time. I just haven't let myself." He leaned toward Morgan, close enough that their noses nearly touched, and almost kissed him, but paused. "This is still an incredibly stupid idea," he said. He didn't sound reluctant, however.

"It's only stupid if you think it'll change things," Morgan whispered. "But I know better. You'll still keep me in the police station all day tomorrow, and I'll still bitch about it, and you'll go on being a pain in my ass. But a hot pain in my ass." He was tempted to lean in and close the distance between them, but he wanted to make Hotch do it. He knew Hotch wanted him, but he hadn't actually admitted it, and Morgan wanted that.

Hotch chuckled softly, feeling some of the tension melt away, though he couldn't help thinking that sex changed everything. They could do this, though. And Morgan was probably right about work. They both loved their jobs too much. "I'm the pain in your ass?" he asked. He didn't add that no one had called him hot in some time.

They were just inches away from one another, and Hotch was waiting for Morgan to kiss him, need building in him, but Morgan wasn't moving. Hotch took a shaky breath and watched him for a moment longer before he just couldn't bear the tension anymore. "Damn it, Morgan." He curled a hand in Morgan's shirt, pulling him in for a hungry kiss.

Morgan moaned into the kiss, meeting Hotch eagerly once he'd made the first move. He wrapped an arm around Hotch, feeling the strength and tension in his body. Hotch's mouth was demanding, telling Morgan how much Hotch wanted this, and it was incredibly arousing. Morgan shifted to get closer, sucking in a breath when his knee twinged, but ignoring the pain.

Hotch turned on the bed, planting himself half over Morgan's body, his fingers curling against the mattress near Morgan's hip. It was partly to keep Morgan from moving too much, and partly because that part of him that had lain dormant for so long had sprung to the surface when Morgan moaned. "I haven't done this in a long time," he said, not sure why, and bit at Morgan's lower lip, drawing his tongue along the trapped skin.

Morgan moaned again, wrapping both arms around Hotch and pulling him closer. I don't care, he thought, but he was too wrapped up in Hotch's sudden hunger to try to speak. He twined his good leg around Hotch's.

God, this was good. Morgan's arms were strong around Hotch, and it ignited him. He slipped carefully between Morgan's knees, and pressed against him, his desire already evident. His hand slid up Morgan's side, over his chest, and then cupped his jaw, holding him in the heated kiss until they were both breathless.

"God, Hotch!" Morgan gasped, panting, when the kiss broke. "Wanted you for so long." He pressed up against Hotch, one hand stroking down Hotch's back to cup his ass.

Hotch sucked in a breath and then rocked against Morgan, breathing hard against Morgan's lips. He tried to reign in his hunger for just a moment - he knew of Morgan's history and didn't want to push too hard until he knew it was okay, though he had no indication whatsoever that Morgan might become uncomfortable with Hotch taking control here. "You're so gorgeous," he breathed, mouthing along Morgan's jaw. "Tell me what you want."

"You," Morgan murmured, Hotch's words sending a thrill through him. He knew he was good-looking, but hearing it from Hotch was different. He groaned and squeezed Hotch's ass. "Your mouth on me. You inside me. Anything."

Hotch gave a little moan, pressing against Morgan again, Morgan's words sending a thrill of lust through him. "I can do that," he murmured, his lips working over Morgan's neck, licking and nipping and tasting Morgan. He slipped a hand under Morgan's shirt, pushing it up as his fingertips traveled the ridges of muscle along Morgan's stomach. This was so very different, but wonderful, and Hotch wanted all of Morgan.

Gasping, Morgan ran a hand up into Hotch's hair and arched under him. "You naked," he added breathlessly. He wanted to be able to give more, but he didn't want to aggravate his knee. He hoped Hotch would agree to do this again when Morgan was uninjured. "God, you're so sexy. It's like you don't even realize it."

Hotch laughed against Morgan's skin, then shifted to tug at Morgan's shirt, waiting for him to lift his arms and let Hotch pull it off. "Are you certain you didn't hit your head, too?" he asked, but he couldn't force the grin back down. He hadn't felt desired in a long time; even when he had tried to revive his marriage, Haley hadn't been interested. It was nice to hear it, and hearing it from Morgan was an added bonus.

"Mmm, I've always known how hot you are," Morgan replied, taking advantage of the way Hotch had pulled back a little and sliding his fingers up Hotch's chest, tugging his tie open and running his fingers into Hotch's hair again. He pulled Hotch back in for another hungry kiss.

Hotch pulled his tie out of his collar as they kissed. "How do I know that's not a concussion talking?" he asked after they broke apart, holding Morgan's gaze and licking his lips as his hand curled into the top of Morgan's jeans.

Morgan smiled, running his fingers through Hotch's hair to mess it up. "You can ask Reid, if you really need corroboration," he murmured, and kissed Hotch softly.

Hotch paused, and pulled back to stare at Morgan. "What?"

"Reid knows I think you're hot," Morgan said, his smile widening. "Reid happens to agree with me, actually. So if you think I'm concussed, he could vouch for this not being a product of a blow to the head." He squeezed Hotch's ass again, because damn, that was one fine ass.

Hotch groaned at the touch, but couldn't focus on it at the moment. His lust was temporarily fogged by this sudden, unexpected information. "He's told you this? Wait, Reid's gay?"

Morgan paused and stared at Hotch for a moment. "You seriously didn't know that?" He laughed. "Hell, yeah, Reid's gay. And yes, he called me on it one day when he caught me checking out your ass. And you should not be thinking about Reid when you're getting ready to fuck me." He pulled Hotch back into a kiss.

Hotch moaned into the kiss, though his mind was still working. How had he missed all of that? He wasn't generally as oblivious to those sorts of things as, well, Reid was... of course, he hadn't been looking for those sorts of things in his co-workers. He pulled back a bit. "Didn't he go on a date with JJ?" He stared at Morgan. Morgan looked well-kissed and inviting, and Hotch found his interest in this new information dwindling by the second. He shook his head. "Nevermind," he murmured, and kissed Morgan again.

Morgan tightened his arms around Hotch and arched up against him. "One date, three years ago, and so he's just mostly gay. Doesn't matter, I'm mostly straight, but I've wanted you for years." Wanted Reid for years, too, but I know better than to go there, since I can't give him what he needs. He was getting distracted. He worked at Hotch's shirt buttons and nipped at his mouth. "Less talk, more fucking," he breathed.

Reid was 'mostly' gay. That was a thought that wasn't going to leave Hotch's mind easily, but he pushed it away for now. He had a willing, gorgeous man underneath him right now, and he intended to enjoy it fully. "Mm-hm," he agreed, and shifted down, licking at the hollow between Morgan's collar bones, then drawing his tongue down the center of his chest.

Morgan gasped and finished quickly with Hotch's buttons, shoving at his shirt to get it off. "Hotch," he moaned, running his hands over broad shoulders and down Hotch's back.

"Morgan," Hotch returned, breathing the name against Morgan's stomach, but it suddenly felt too impersonal. "Derek." He scraped his teeth lightly over Morgan's chest until he found Morgan's nipple, which he bit lightly.

Morgan yelped, pleased, and scratched his nails lightly down Hotch's back. "Oh, God, yes!" he breathed, pressing up against Hotch again. "Aaron--"  It felt strange, calling him that.

"Mm-hm," Hotch hummed, then bit slightly harder, just because it was wonderful to see Derek Morgan like this, so open and responsive, and vulnerable, just letting Hotch have him. He slid lower. "I haven't done this before," he said as he inched towards Morgan's erection, though he knew he could do it, and he didn't hesitate. He knew what he liked, and he knew how it was supposed to be done.

Morgan gasped and clutched at Hotch, breathing raggedly. "You're doing great so far," he managed, running his hands over the warm skin. He loved the play of muscles across Hotch's back. "It's been a while for me," he added, to make Hotch feel better.

Hotch laughed, and fumbled open Morgan's pants, pushing them open and Morgan's underwear down enough for Morgan's cock to spring free. He curled his fingers around the base. "I assume you have condoms and lubrication," he said, and then tentatively licked the head of Morgan's cock.

Morgan had opened his mouth to answer, but when Hotch licked him, he whimpered instead, his fingers sliding into Hotch's hair again. When he caught his breath, he said, "This is me you're talkin' to, H--Aaron. Of course I have condoms and lube." He'd never expected to use it like this, though! He sighed happily.

Hotch hummed and closed his lips over Morgan, his eyes fluttering shut at the new sensation, the soft head of Morgan's cock against his tongue. It was certainly more exciting than he'd imagined it would be, and he swirled his tongue over it, opening his eyes again and gauging Morgan's reaction.

"Nnh!" Morgan said, pleasantly surprised at how Hotch seemed to enjoy this. He fought to keep his hips from moving, despite the urge to thrust up. Instead he ran his fingers through Hotch's hair, liking how it looked all messy.

Hotch lowered his head, taking Morgan a little deeper and then drawing back up, snaking his tongue along Morgan's shaft. This was almost more intimate, he thought, than being with a woman. He knew exactly how everything he was doing felt instead of guessing about it. He slid a hand down, and pulled Morgan's pants and underwear down farther to squeeze Morgan's balls, then sucked a little harder, pulling back and humming an amused noise when Morgan's hips jerked a little. He pressed a hand against Morgan's hip and took him deeper.

"Mmm, Aaron," Morgan breathed, stroking his hand over Hotch's shoulders and upper back. That hum had sent a wave of sensation through him, Hotch's hand making him gasp and fight back whimpers of pleasure. He suddenly found himself glad he'd hurt his knee; none of this might ever have happened otherwise.

Hotch hummed again, this time on purpose, though he was enjoying the play of Morgan's body above him, the way he moved in pleasure and how he was letting Hotch do this. God, this is one of the best bad decisions I've ever made. He moaned softly around Morgan and pulled back, pressing kisses to Morgan's hip. "Are they in your bag?"

Morgan groaned and writhed a little, nodding. "Inside pocket," he gasped, watching Hotch from half-lidded eyes. "Naked," he added, his gaze hungry.

Hotch breathed a laugh and slid off the bed. "That would help this along, yes," he said, and went to look in Morgan's bag. When he found what he was looking for, he walked back and stood at the end of the bed, looking at how Morgan was laid out for him, his jeans still on, but hanging out of them. "You too," he murmured, and started to pull open his belt.

Morgan smiled broadly at him and shifted a little, wriggling to get his jeans and boxers off. He winced when they caught at his bad knee. It must be swollen. He leaned up a little to catch the ice as it slid off his knee, then gave Hotch a plaintive look.

Hotch pursed his lips, but then leaned over to tug the one leg of Morgan's jeans off gently, then he pulled Morgan's socks off. He glanced at the badly swollen knee. "Oh, yeah, you're fine," he murmured, then stood again and toed his own shoes and socks off. He looked up at Morgan from under his lashes as he pulled open the button of his pants. "Naked, right?" he said, a faint smile playing on his lips.

Morgan's mouth went dry. God, Hotch had absolutely no idea how alluring he was like that, did he? "Naked," he breathed, ignoring Hotch's other comment.

Hotch nodded, amused, and stripped off his pants, kicking them off before pushing his boxers off to join them on the floor. He glanced up at Morgan and licked his lips, not quite expecting Morgan's gaze to be quite so hungry on him. He drew in a breath, and then lifted his eyebrows, not really sure what to say.

Morgan's breath caught in his throat at the sight of Hotch--his boss--naked and obviously aroused, and all Morgan's. "Gorgeous," he said, tilting his head back as Hotch climbed on the bed. He didn't want to look away, so he just stared, smiling, until Hotch leaned down and seized his mouth in a kiss.

"I still think you're concussed." Hotch kissed him again, deepening it and curling his fingers around Morgan's cock again. He was starting to consider how exactly they were going to do this without jostling Morgan's knee. The last thing he wanted was to be responsible for furthering the injury.

Of course, he could consider that while he prepared Morgan. God, he was about to fuck Morgan. He moaned into the kiss, and then slid back down Morgan's body, taking Morgan back into his mouth as he worked open the lube and slicked his fingers.

Gasping, Morgan let his hips jerk once before he could catch himself. He reached down to touch Hotch, stroking his hands over the strong shoulders. "God, Hotch!"

"Mmm," Hotch hummed, and now that he was getting used to sucking Morgan, he thought he liked the thrust of Morgan's hips. He slid his lips as low as he could manage, taking Morgan as deeply as he could, and sucked, pressing his fingertips against Morgan's entrance lightly.

"Yes," Morgan gasped, his voice almost a whine. "Hotch, yes!" He felt like his body was singing with pleasure. Hotch was so eager, it was amazing.

Hotch closed his eyes again, trying to enjoy every part of this, and swirled his tongue around Morgan's cock as he pressed a finger inside of Morgan. His cock pulsed against the mattress, untouched and aching at the feeling of that tight heat around his finger. He moaned and slid his finger deeper, crooking it experimentally inside of Morgan.

The pleasure that shot through Morgan tore a cry from his throat, which he stifled a moment too late. Morgan arched and ran his fingers up into Hotch's hair, gripping gently. "Fuck!"

That drew another moan out of Hotch; the way Morgan was responding was fantastic. Hotch realized it had been a long time since anyone -- well, Haley, to be more truthful, as he'd had no other partners since high school -- had been so excited to sleep with him, and it was intoxicating. That that person was Morgan, letting himself be open for Hotch completely, was even more amazing. Hotch crooked his fingers again, pulling off of Morgan's cock, to murmur, "You're so fucking sexy," just before gently working another finger inside, his gaze on Morgan's face.

Morgan's eyes widened and he stared at Hotch. "You just said fuck," he gasped, his voice going up at the end as Hotch's fingers sent another gorgeous jolt of pleasure through him. He wiggled to get Hotch settled better between his legs, wanting to pull him closer even though he appreciated the way Hotch was being careful.

Hotch paused for a moment to stare at Morgan, and then just started laughing, dropping his face to Morgan's hip as his fingers moved again, scissoring inside of Morgan. "I did," he murmured, still amused at Morgan's reaction. "I'm not Reid," he added. Reid was gay... Hotch mentally shook himself. "I take it you liked that?"

"God, yes!" Morgan managed, tugging at Hotch's hair. "You're--nnnh, Aaron, ahhh!" Hotch was relentless, his fingers working constantly, the pleasure building inside Morgan. He'd always imagined Hotch to be passionate in bed, with that incredible focus he could bring to any task. He'd never thought Hotch would be fun, playful almost, the way they could laugh together like this. It aroused Morgan further.

Hotch's need was growing with each noise he drove from Morgan. He licked along the inside of Morgan's hip bone, then down to Morgan's balls, pressing himself against the mattress for much needed friction. "I want to fuck you," he breathed, his voice dropping low with desire.

"Yes! Now," Morgan demanded, pulling his hair again. "Fuck me now." It was strange: being with Hotch, someone he had both respected and wanted for years, made him feel younger than he was, but it made him feel incredibly good, like he'd been awarded some sort of prize. "I want you, Aaron!"

Hotch moaned and slid up Morgan's body, his lips pressing against Morgan's in a searing kiss. He hadn't realized until this night just how badly he'd needed someone to want him. "Say that again," he panted when they broke apart, and shifted to lie next to Morgan, nudging Morgan to roll onto his side, and slipping the condom on himself as Morgan complied.

"I want you," Morgan gasped obediently. "Aaron, I want you." He liked the reaction that got; he was more than happy to repeat it. He let Hotch maneuver him, looking forward to this with an avidity that made him suspect he was bordering on desperate when it came to Hotch.

Hotch closed his eyes, letting the words run through him. There was something almost healing in them. He pressed up against Morgan when he was on his side, fitting his body behind Morgan's, his cock nestled against Morgan's opening. He was hoping this would be easiest on Morgan's knee, and he rocked against Morgan, brushing against Morgan's opening.   "Derek," he breathed, kissing the back of Morgan's shoulder and shifting up onto one arm so that he could look down at Morgan, see his face over the top of Morgan's arm.

"Oh, nnnh, Aaron," Morgan managed, reaching back so he could grip Hotch's thigh. He wanted to be able to touch Hotch more easily than this, but he knew this would be better for his knee. "God, yes, inside! Now!" It sent a little rush through him to be giving an order to his boss.

Hotch hummed an amused noise but reached down and positioned himself against Morgan's entrance. "Yes, sir," he murmured, kissing along the back of Morgan's neck as he pressed into the wonderful heat of Morgan's body, sliding until he was fully sheathed inside him, his breath going ragged.

Morgan let out a strangled noise and tightened his fingers on Hotch. "Yes, yeah, you feel so good," he blurted, deciding not to hold back since Hotch had responded so well to being wanted. He would probably like being praised, too. Morgan turned his head, wanting a kiss.

Hotch kissed Morgan's jaw, then his lips, moaning softly as he thrust against Morgan again. "Oh, fuck, so do you," he panted, moving again but keeping his movements shallow until he was sure Morgan was comfortable.

"Mmm." Morgan ran his free hand along Hotch's leg, pressing back into his thrusts. "Harder," he murmured. "I'm not going to break." He wanted Hotch not holding back, wanted the full force of his passion. He slid his hand up awkwardly to squeeze Hotch's ass.

Hotch moaned and caught Morgan's lips in another kiss, sliding his hand down to Morgan's hip as he thrust harder, pressing Morgan's hip back against him as he did. Being inside Morgan was unlike anything he'd felt before, and his nerves were humming, pleasure spreading through his limbs. He curled his fingers against Morgan's skin and worked his hips into a steady rhythm.

Morgan moaned against Hotch's lips, his fingers digging into Hotch's ass. "More," he demanded breathlessly. "So good! Aaron, I need more. You." He couldn't seem to force out what he wanted to say, that he wanted the parts of Hotch Haley hadn't wanted to see. He wanted the real Aaron Hotchner. But the words wouldn't form, so he just made noises of pleasure and clutched at Hotch.

Hotch groaned. "You have me," he said, his voice growing hoarse with lust and the letting go of the past year's repressed needs. He sped up, biting at Morgan's shoulder. "Touch yourself," he ordered, letting himself take without reservation now that he knew Morgan wanted that.

The feel of Hotch's teeth on him sent a spasm of desire through Morgan. He gave a muffled cry and clenched around Hotch's dick, arching his back. "Yes!" he gasped, digging his nails briefly into Hotch's skin before sliding his hand away, curling tightly around his own erection. He squeezed himself for a moment, then slid down further to press against his balls, massaging them and trying to go slowly. His mouth dropped open as he panted from the intense pleasure that coursed through him.

Hotch's hips jerked, his eyes falling to Morgan's hand, a spasm of lust running though him at the sight of Morgan touching himself, pleasuring himself to the feeling of Hotch inside him. "Tell me what you want," he said, though he'd already heard it. He wanted it again. He wanted every concession Morgan was willing to give, knowing he was the only one on the team to see this.

"You!" Morgan gasped. "All of you, anything, please, Aaron--" His hand wandered back up to his cock, stroking almost lazily in counterpoint to Hotch's thrusts. He wanted this to last; there were no guarantees he would get this again. "I want you to fuck me hard! I want you to show me what you want." God, this was going to kill him. It was too good. The thought flitted through his head that Hotch was right, sex would change things. He pushed it away.

Hotch made a sound in the back of his throat, one that was almost a growl as he sped, Morgan's words and enthusiasm spurring him on. "God, Derek, you're so perfect like this, so fucking beautiful," he groaned, his nails digging into Morgan's hip at the force of his own thrusts.

Morgan whimpered, his fingers automatically tightening on himself as he stroked faster. "Feels so good!" he gasped. "Aaron--Aaron!" His brain was shutting down as his body lit up with pleasure. He clenched around Hotch again, not even trying to stifle the noises of pleasure each thrust drove from him.

Hotch was trying to watch Morgan, but the haze of pleasure spreading through his mind was making it difficult, and tension was starting to coil in his body. Morgan clenched around him and he gasped and then sped up again. "Nnng, fuck!'

"Yes," Morgan managed, his body tensing. He didn't want to come yet, but he was getting close, shivers of pleasure coursing through him, his blood pounding in his veins. He tightened his muscles again, liking Hotch's reaction to that.

Hotch's breath went even more ragged when Morgan squeezed around him again, and he stilled, panting hard for a moment, trying to hold off. The need was too strong though, and after breathing harshly against Morgan's skin for a moment, Hotch thrust again, his movements sharp and hard until they fell out of rhythm and he groaned, coming hard. His lips moved absently over Morgan's skin, his brain momentarily blank of everything but the satiation in his body.

Morgan worked his muscles around Hotch, stroking himself faster. He was still reaching for climax when he felt Hotch come. It was incredible, feeling that, hearing that, and knowing he was responsible for making Hotch come apart like that. It was exactly what he'd always wanted from Hotch, the fire and passion. He stroked harder, catching his lower lip between his teeth as he strained for orgasm.

"Mmm, Derek," Hotch breathed, still kissing the back of Morgan's shoulder. When he thought he could move, he leaned up to kiss Morgan again, a slow, sated, tender kiss, and didn't pull out. He draped his arm over Morgan to wrap his fingers around Morgan's cock, lacing his fingers with Morgan's, and matched his stroke. "Amazing," he whispered, "So beautiful."

Morgan's breath hitched and he moaned, letting his head fall back to rest against Hotch's shoulder, letting the pleasure build until his body was trembling with it, aching for release--and then he came over their joined hands. "Ahh--Aaron!" He slumped back, panting, relishing the warmth of Hotch's chest against his back.

Hotch couldn't help but watch the expression on Morgan's face, the way he came undone. He was so open, and it was one of the most beautiful things Hotch had seen in a long time. He pressed his lips to Morgan's shoulder, milking the last of Morgan's release, and then dropped his hand, letting it trail over Morgan's hip and not moving from where he was. It was strange, but he was almost hesitant to pull out, like it might break whatever spell this was, whatever had gotten into them.

"God," Morgan breathed after a while. He was still trying to catch his breath, grateful that Hotch hadn't pulled away. He wondered if Hotch had believed him when he'd said he wanted to do this again, when his knee wasn't hurt. Or would this be the only time? "That was fantastic," he murmured. He slid his hand over Hotch's and closed his eyes, wishing Hotch would stay close.

Hotch smiled softly, drawing in a deep breath, his hand sliding down the top of Morgan's thigh. "Definitely worth breaking the rules for," he agreed.

"Mmm," Morgan agreed. He was feeling pleasantly hazy, both from orgasm and the scotch, and he had to fight a sudden urge to invite Hotch to stay here tonight. He wasn't sure Hotch would want to; that might turn this into something awkward. Not to mention it wasn't Morgan's usual style...but he really wanted a second time. He opened his eyes and turned his head to kiss Hotch again slowly.

Hotch hummed into the kiss, not quite ready to leave just yet, though he expected he probably should soon, before this got strange. As much as he wanted to stay wrapped up against Morgan like this, it didn't seem like something Morgan would want. And it wasn't really anything Hotch was sure he was ready for. Reluctantly, he rolled a bit to slip out of Morgan, putting a few inches between them without breaking the kiss or his contact with Morgan.

Morgan sighed but shifted to follow Hotch. When the kiss finally ended, he brushed his nose against Hotch's jaw. "I'm not much of a cuddler," he murmured, "but I don't want you to go." Once the words were out he felt a bit stupid, but he'd liked having Hotch's company even before they got to the flirting. Innuendo. Whatever it had been.

Morgan didn't want Hotch to go? Did Morgan mean right now, or for the entire night? Hotch hummed and brought his hand up to trace Morgan's jaw. "I'm not ready to leave just yet, if you're not kicking me out," he murmured. There. That at least established that Hotch did intend to leave, just not right away. Of course, what they were supposed to do if Morgan didn't want to, as he put it, 'cuddle', was absolutely beyond Hotch, so he just kissed Morgan again, trying not to over think this. It was nice, comfortable, when he didn't think too much.

"Mmhmm," Morgan agreed, "not yet." Good. Hotch would stay...for a while. That seemed right. He shifted, trying to get his knee into a more comfortable position. "You're gorgeous, Hotch," he murmured, meeting his gaze openly. And Haley was a fool to walk away.

Hotch held his gaze for a moment, his lips quirking slightly, and then he shook his head and rolled his eyes. With the haze of lust starting to ebb away, it was harder to accept the compliment, though it still did feel good. "Do you need more ice?" he murmured.

"That would be good," Morgan admitted. "And a washcloth, maybe." He glanced down at his knee and frowned. "Or maybe I should hobble into the bathroom and get cleaned up and take a leak all at the same time." Then he sighed and relaxed into the bed. "But not yet."

Hotch stared at him for a moment. That was certainly not something you'd ever hear a woman say after sex. After a moment, he laughed, rolling back onto his back as well, and pressing his palm to his forehead. It was certainly a night of firsts. "Wow," he murmured, amused.

Morgan raised his eyebrows and looked at Hotch. "What?"

Hotch chuckled again, then licked his lips. "Nothing. I just... nothing," he said, grinning even though his eyes were still closed.

Morgan frowned. "What?" he repeated, a note of defensiveness creeping into his voice. He pushed himself up on one elbow to glare at Hotch.

Hotch let his hand drop and looked up at Morgan when his tone changed. "It's nothing bad. I'm just... musing." His smile had faded, but not entirely. "Never in my life has someone told me they needed to 'take a leak' after sex."

Morgan blinked at him for a moment, the frown fading, then began to laugh. "Well," he said after a moment, "you know. Honesty is one of the benefits of casual sex." He leaned in and kissed Hotch, just because he could.

Hotch's smile went a little wan, but he cupped Morgan's jaw in his hand. "Should be honesty in all types of sex," he murmured and kissed Morgan again.

"Should be," Morgan agreed, his lips brushing Hotch's. "Isn't." He sighed and settled down against the mattress, letting his chin just rest against Hotch's shoulder. It wasn't cuddling, but it was contact. His eyelids lowered until his eyes were nearly closed.

Hotch let his hand follow Morgan's movements, flattening his palm against Morgan's neck when he settled. He turned his head and pressed his lips to Morgan's forehead, wondering if Morgan was going to fall asleep on him.

"This was a great idea," Morgan mumbled, liking the way Hotch touched him. It was almost affectionate, but not too much so. He felt so good, he might almost drift off...

When Morgan woke, the room was darker, but not entirely dark. The bathroom light was on, the door half open. His knee was cold, but the blanket was drawn up over his chest. He shifted and winced as half a dozen bruises made themselves known. Hotch was gone.

It didn't surprise him. Rather than disappointing him, it was a relief. There would be less awkwardness if they could just meet at breakfast with the rest of the team, no need to talk about what had happened, but no need to ignore it, either.

Morgan sighed. He probably ought to get up and get more ice, like he'd planned before falling asleep. He pushed the covers back...and was surprised that the bag of ice that slid off his knee was so cold. He reached down and discovered the ice cubes were almost entirely solid still. In addition he could tell Hotch had cleaned him up before going; a damp washcloth still rested on the nightstand. The door between their rooms was cracked open.

Smiling, Morgan settled back down into the mattress, pulling the covers around him. Sleep beckoned.

Watching Hotch